June, Reimagined (49)

“Max?” Matt said. “The feral animal?”

Amelia ignored him. “I need your help, June. I’m worried something’s happened to him.”

“Of course.” June stood from the table.

“June can’t.” Matt placed his hand on top of June’s. “She’s working.”

Amelia eyed their physical contact. “I’m sure my uncle won’t mind.”

June pulled her hand free as Hamish came out of the kitchen wiping his hands on his apron, a red bandana holding back his hair. “What won’t I mind?”

“We have a problem, Uncle.” Amelia explained the lost-dog situation.

“Course June can go,” Hamish said. “This place is as dead as a doornail after the festival. I’ll be fine. Might even close early. Go on. Get out of here.”

“I still don’t understand why June needs to find this rabid dog,” Matt said to Amelia.

June didn’t want to get into the specifics. She was already grabbing her rain jacket and Wellingtons. “He knows me, Matty.”

“Fine. Then I’ll come, too.” Matt started to collect his items from the table.

Amelia stopped him. “You don’t want to spend your time searching for a rabid dog in the rain.”

“I don’t mind—”

“No, she’s right,” June said as she slipped out of her running shoes and into her rubber boots. Matt wasn’t dressed for the weather. His shoes were leather and his coat, while warm and wool, was not waterproof.

Amelia picked up the book Matt had been reading. “There’s a brilliant used bookstore a few towns over. One of the best in Scotland. I’ll take you there while June looks for Max. I promise it’ll be more enjoyable than traipsing around a soggy bog for hours.”

At the mention of the bookstore, Matt softened. June played it to her advantage. “I bet they have a copy of Eliot’s Four Quartets,” she said. It was the one book Matt collected multiple copies of, including his prized edition from East Village Books in New York City. “You need one from Scotland.”

Matt whispered to June, “Are you sure?”

June felt relieved at being able to answer honestly. “Yes. Very sure.”

“Grand!” Amelia took Matt by the arm, linked her own arm through his, and pulled him toward her with a wide smile. Matt seemed pleased with the turn of events, being held so close by a gorgeous woman. “We’ll meet at the pub tonight,” Amelia said, pulling Matt to the door. “Don’t worry, June. I’ll take good care of him.”

And then they were gone. June hated to admit that she was relieved.

“Do you know where to look?” Hamish asked.

June pulled up her hood. “I have an idea.” But she knew exactly where to go.





TWENTY-ONE


The path along the waterfront where Max and June often ran was empty this afternoon. Puddles of snowmelt and rain gathered on the pavement. June jogged as best she could in her Wellingtons, yelling for Max. So far, she had seen no sign of him.

She was following their usual route, thinking Max would go somewhere familiar, but the longer she followed the path with no success, the more June worried. She loved that dog. The hours they had spent running together were some of her best in Scotland. He felt more like a friend than an animal, almost as if he were June’s dog, too. She was used to the familiar jangle of Max’s collar and tags, the trotting sound of his paws on the concrete, the way he’d look up at her, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth, a huge smile on his face, as if running six miles was nothing for him. Always content, Max made life feel simple. With him at her side while she ran, June’s mind would calm. Seeing his serene face, her problems felt far off—pointless almost.

June picked up her pace. She needed to find Max before it got dark, which was quickly approaching. A quarter mile ahead, the path rounded a bend and headed into acres of farmland sectioned off by a stone wall. Maybe Max was frolicking in the open fields, scaring birds and digging holes, just as he liked. As June approached the bend, she heard the footsteps. Maybe another runner had seen Max and could point June in the right direction. But as she rounded the bend, June came face to face with a panting Lennox. She halted, as did he. They stood on the path staring at each other, out of breath and wet from rain and sweat.

“What are you doing here, Peanut?” Lennox’s tone was accusatory.

“What do you think I’m doing here? Looking for Max.”

“Go home. Get warm. It’ll be dark soon. I don’t need another problem on my hands.”

“No.”

“I’m not in the mood for your stubbornness.” Lennox brushed past June and walked further down the path, yelling Max’s name. A leash dangled from his back pocket.

June followed. “Well, I’m not in the mood for your bossiness.”

Lennox rounded on June and growled. “Just turn your bloody arse around and go home, goddammit!”

“You’re not the only one who cares about Max!” June yelled in his face.

At that, Lennox physically deflated, his usual commanding presence wilting before June’s eyes. His shoulders slumped, but it was Lennox’s helpless eyes that gutted June. She felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach, stolen her air.